‘But that’s not the whole story, is it? The whole story is never told. You have to dig a little to find it.’
Nathalie was lost for words. What was Macie getting at exactly? It was like she was talking in riddles. It was like she was enjoying this.
Nathalie’s voice was flat, dark. ‘I’m not following.’ She shook her head and gestured to the picnic. ‘Is this . . . is all this some kind of game to you, Macie?’
‘Fun, isn’t it?’ A puff of laughter, the pink-lipped smile.
Nathalie felt sick. The cloying smell of sugar mingled with the damp soil, the rotting leaf litter.
‘It’s interesting you and Caleb have such a connection, don’t you think?’ Macie asked, reaching for a bowl of strawberries.
Nathalie’s gut lurched. So, Macie knew. Had he told her everything? She took a large gulp of the wine, willing the panic stretching through her to ease.
‘You’re both a little trapped. I understand it perfectly,’ Macie said. ‘You in a marriage tainted by your husband’s infidelity but with three young children to think of, and Caleb by all of his anxieties, his self-doubt. And with a mother complex. It was inevitable, really.’
Nathalie’s face flushed and she shook her head. She wanted to crawl out of this place, shrug off the discomfort of what she’d done with Caleb, escape from what Macie was implying. She could feel the knotted, gnarled tree roots under her, like fingers, like bones. She shifted, dread creeping through her. She balled her hands into fists and lowered her voice. ‘It’s really none of your business. Caleb is a grown man, and my marriage and what I choose to do in or out of it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Look, I’m really sorry for what you’ve been through, but I never meant to hurt you, or Caleb. Now, I should really check in on Richie. He’s been asleep for half an hour.’ She turned and began to crawl towards the edge of the foliage, towards the bright relief of daylight.
‘But you see it does concern me, Nathalie. Because I know he told you everything. How he came to be with me. Abandoned by his own mother. He’s never told another soul that, but he told you.’
Nathalie turned back to Macie and felt her skin prickle.
‘His mother was no good.’ Macie hulled the strawberries as she spoke, her nails digging into the pink flesh. ‘One thing I will give you Nathalie, you are a good mother – you didn’t abandon your children that night at the hotel. They’re who you do it all for. Why you stayed with your cheating husband. And I know you won’t abandon them now by destroying their lives, making them lose their father. I could be wrong, but Mike doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would cope well with competition.’
She was rooted to the spot. Numb. Was Macie threatening her? Threatening to tell Mike about her and Caleb? She watched her girls putting flowers in each other’s hair, soft singing issuing from their lips, and felt sick.
‘Your children are who you do everything for. It’s beautiful. That’s why I know you and I understand each other. And we both have our secrets.’
Nathalie pressed her palms to her forehead. The wine had made her woozy. She needed to think but she felt muddled. As though she had drunk a bottle, not a cup. As though everything were the wrong way up.
‘Why do you and I understand each other, Macie?’ The words were too slow in her mouth.
‘You understand what needs to be done to protect a child.’
The compulsion to crawl out of this place was strong, but Nathalie needed to know what strange thing was at play here. ‘But you couldn’t protect Jacob.’ The name felt like a cuss on her tongue. Nathalie saw its physical impact on Macie. Like she’d been slapped. Macie’s eyes went glassy in the dappled light. She bowed her head and sighed softly, running her hands down her pants.
‘Why did you lie to us about Jacob? You told us he was alive and living with his dad.’
Macie unfolded her legs from under her. ‘Will, come and show me your teddy. What have you named him?’
Will and Seraphine came over to them and Nathalie felt an intense protectiveness envelop her.
‘They’re both girl teddies,’ said Seraphine. ‘Will’s is called Jean and mine is Bonnie.’
‘Lovely. What charming names. And did you enjoy the cake?’ Macie asked, taking Will’s hand in hers. ‘I made it especially for you because you told me cake with jam in the middle is your favourite, after banana cake.’
‘When’s my mum getting back? I feel a bit sick,’ said Seraphine.
‘Me too,’ said Will.
‘Oh, you’ve all had too much sugar,’ said Macie, laughing. ‘Here, have some strawberries. Fruit evens things out.’
Nathalie felt her own queasiness intensify. She wanted to break up this party and usher the children into the sunlight, but it felt like she’d just picked at a loose thread. It felt like the fabric of everything was unravelling, messy but joined somehow and all she had to do was follow the thread, tug a little until she could poke her finger through.
‘That little boy is so special,’ said Macie, watching Will. ‘We can all see that. It’s such a shame his mother couldn’t. Maybe that’s why she left. She didn’t love him. Not as a mother should. She must know deep down what’s best for him.’
Everything stilled. The sound of the children, Macie’s voice, the birdsong from the garden. It all quietened, and all Nathalie could hear was her own blood pumping in her ears. Nathalie felt loose from the wine, sleepy. Sleepier than felt right. She could still get the words to the tip of her tongue, but they were blurry, indistinct. ‘What’s best for him, Macie?’
‘That he’s loved, of course,’ Macie laughed and shook her head. ‘You know that. Not all mothers do, but you do.’
‘And you want to protect Will.’ Her voice didn’t sound right. It was slow and garbled.
Macie put her hand on Nathalie’s knee and smiled as though she was a child only just catching the meaning of a particularly baffling riddle.
‘It’s better this way. That little boy was not loved. I could feel it in my bones. I knew that she’d abandon him, just like Teresa abandoned Caleb.’
Nathalie felt bile rise in the back of her throat and she covered her mouth, swallowed it back. ‘You knew Caleb’s mother?’
‘Are you not feeling well?’ Macie asked, smoothing a strand of stray hair off Nathalie’s face.
‘I think I need some air,’ she said, feeling pinpricks of sweat bead on her brow. ‘The wine.’ Her mind was spinning, the foliage was unnaturally bright, the roots like snakes twisting in the ground beneath her. Everything felt tangled, the branches, the roots, the things Macie was telling her.
‘I gave her every chance to love that boy, gave her a job in my kitchen but, no, she just kept choosing the drugs.’
Nathalie tried to push past the thick haze in her mind. Caleb’s mother. Will’s mother. She tried to hold on to the connection, but the blackness edged into her vision. ‘What did you do, Macie?’
Macie leaned in so close Nathalie could smell the sweetness on her breath. ‘Nathalie, do you think your husband and friends would like to know that you slept with a boy in his 20s? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’
Nathalie’s head swam. She summoned everything to push back the blackness, to find the words. ‘Macie, have you put something in my drink?’
‘You are a bit partial to wine, aren’t you, Nathalie?’
The last thing Nathalie felt was Macie’s hand smoothing her hair. The last thing she saw was her girls’ faces smiling, happy, being led out into the sunlight. The last thing she thought was of her helpless baby sleeping, before the world tipped sidewards and went black.
Nathalie was disoriented when she woke. She sat up, with difficulty, rubbing her eyes. Everything was blurry and she was covered in sweat. Where was she? Her hands found sheets. She was on her bed. She pulled the curtain aside to look out the window. The sun lingered on the cliff face, the colour of weak tea. It was late afternoon. Or was it early morning? She couldn’t tell. Birdsong chorused in the trees. Were they morning or afternoo
n calls? Her head thumped and her heart raced. Where were the girls? Richie? Panic gripped her. She found a note on the bedside table before she found the empty travel cot.
Didn’t want to wake you. I’ve taken him for a drive, M x
Relief flooded through her knowing that Richie was safely with Mike, and she took a deep breath. She pressed the palms of her hands to her forehead. The picnic under the weeping mulberry tree. The wine. What Macie had told her. It all flooded back like a terrible dream. A nightmarish fairy tale. The sound of children’s laughter tinkled through the open window and she scrambled over the bed to follow it. The kids were all below in the garden and on the trampoline. Emmie was with them. Another rush of relief. They were okay. The others had returned.
She sat back down on the bed and reached for a bottle of water. Drank thirstily. Was she imagining what had happened in the cool, sun-dappled space under the tree? Had she drunk too much of that delicious wine? She’d sipped only a few mouthfuls, hadn’t she? And this wasn’t a hangover, this was something different. Her head was spinning and an unnatural tiredness dragged at her. It was hard to keep her eyes open. But what was the alternative? That Macie had put something into the wine? Wasn’t she drinking from the same bottle? Was she just imagining these things? The conversation was hazy but she couldn’t ignore the feeling in her gut. She’d felt like she was in a shadowy confessional box under that tree, or some dark amusement park. Had Macie done something bad? What had she said about Caleb’s mother? Nathalie ran her hands down her face and rubbed her eyes, forced her brain to work through the fog. Macie had said Caleb was better off without his mother. Drug addict. Kitchen. Words came back to her like fragments of a dream. Teresa. That had been her name. She’d been a drug addict, and she’d worked in the kitchen here. Caleb had no idea about this, she was sure. His mother was a nameless enemy who had abandoned him in the garden. So, where had Teresa gone? What had happened to her? And Pen. Macie’s words came back to her. You understand what needs to be done to protect a child.
Her gut ached and nausea rolled through her. Something had gone on here. She could feel it even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. She was so used to stilling these feelings, pushing them down. Covering them up with wine. More wine. Nathalie felt bile rise in her throat and she rushed to the hand basin and leaned over it until the nausea passed. She splashed her face with water and looked in the mirror. Her skin was pale, dark bruises under her eyes. An image came to her of the painting in the hall. The one Caleb had spoken of and later had shown her. The Lady of Shalott looking into a mirror. The woman trapped in her tower who only saw the real world as a reflection in a mirror. Is this how she had been seeing the world?
She had to tell the others about the wine under the tree and ending up on the bed with no memory of getting there. Macie’s strange words. She felt dizzy and sank down next to the basin, pressing her forehead to its cool rim, her limbs like lead. Would they even believe her? Emmie already thought she was a drunk. What else had Macie said? That she’d tell Mike about her and Caleb . . . if what? She told the others what had been spoken under the weeping mulberry tree? What did she know that the others did not? Jacob’s death. Caleb’s mother. Macie’s words came back to her like a chilling whisper. That little boy was not loved. I could feel it in my bones. I knew that she’d abandon him, just like Teresa abandoned Caleb.
Nausea rose through her again and this time her body convulsed and she vomited into the basin. She wiped her face with a wet towel and squeezed her eyes shut. She must tell the others about all this, of course she had to.
But Mike couldn’t know about Caleb. He couldn’t know. She thought about how he would react to the news she’d slept with another man. What would he do? Would he abandon her and the kids? A tremor ran through her and she drew her arms close. She realised she was shaking. She looked out the window to find the escarpment in shadow. Night was coming. Pen was out there somewhere, and dread moved inside her, darkening the edges of her vision. She knew the answer. Deep inside her, she knew. She had always known. Ever since she received that email from him to his lover, she knew. It was like tiptoeing on the thinnest of ice, knowing that with any step everything could shatter. She would be left alone. With the children. With herself. She was caught in a web. She could see it shining now, glinting coldly on her skin. She shook her arms, but it clung on. She needed to get out of this place.
CHAPTER 42
Emmie
Emmie felt a buzz of annoyance as she watched Nathalie descend the stairs like some sleep-addled princess. Her hair was messy and her skin was pale, as though she’d just got out of bed. So, while everyone else was trying to help the search effort and entertain the kids Nathalie was drinking wine and napping.
‘Here she is,’ Emmie said, effecting an upbeat tone that she didn’t feel. ‘We were all wondering where you were. Mike said you were asleep, and Macie mentioned you had a little bit too much wine with lunch. She told us about the picnic. It was a nice thing to do for the kids,’ she said, trying to hide the wave of resentment for the way Nathalie seemed to have forgotten that their friend was lost and another fruitless day of searching was wrapping up, another dark night edging in, bringing with it feelings of doom that stifled all the hope buoyed by the daylight.
Nathalie looked dazed rather than guilty. She shook her head, confusion clouding her features. ‘I didn’t think I had that much wine actually. I . . .’ She rubbed her arms and looked around. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘It’s dinnertime. The kids are just coming in to wash their hands, Caleb’s made quiche. Don’t know how that’ll go down with the kids but it’s nice of him to keep cooking for us all despite everything. It’s some semblance of normality for Will.’ The kids trailed into the entrance hall behind her. She clapped her hands. ‘Come on, it’s dinnertime. You were all complaining of being hungry a second ago. Go and wash your hands in the hall bathroom.’
Nathalie crouched down to her girls and wrapped them in her arms, pressing her face into their hair. When she stood Emmie thought she saw tears in her eyes.
‘Go on, go and wash your hands,’ Nathalie said, ushering them towards the bathroom. ‘Thanks for looking after them. I . . .’ her voice trailed off and she took a deep breath. ‘What did you find out in town? Did you speak to some locals? What are the police saying now?’
‘Mike did but I don’t think there’s anything much new. They’ve put a call out on social media, and in the local paper. They’re still interviewing people in the area. None of it feels like it’s enough.’ She looked towards the darkening evening. ‘And now it’s another night.’
Nathalie swallowed hard; it was clear she was feeling emotional and despite her lingering resentment, Emmie reached out and touched Nathalie’s shoulder.
‘Are you okay? You seem a bit . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Off.’
Nathalie’s mouth quivered at the corners. ‘I think I’m just overwhelmed with what’s happened. I . . .’ A flicker of pain passed over her face. ‘I think I must have drunk too much wine with lunch. I feel so awful to have been asleep when you were all out there looking.’
‘Oh look, we’re all emotionally exhausted.’ Emmie sighed. ‘Not that it’s helped much. I did find out a potted history of the valley though, in a book written by a local history buff.’ She looked behind them and up the stairs, making sure Macie wasn’t around. Her voice was whispered. ‘Spoke to the librarian there who knows of Macie Laurencin and had a few things to say.’
Nathalie’s eyes widened. ‘What did she say?’
The kids began to stream back into the hallway, and they ushered them into the dining room. Emmie lowered her voice further. ‘Let’s talk after dinner. Macie isn’t well liked. None of the locals would dream of coming into the valley. They’re spooked by it. It made me think of Will and his strange behaviour.’
‘Really? Oh my God.’
‘And it’s true, Clara Black went missing in the 1940s – it was a huge story at the time. It’s all recorded
in a book on the history of the valley. The librarian let me borrow it. And there was another missing woman. In the ’90s. Local drug addict. Not much of a story, hardly an effort put into looking for her. No mention of her in the books I looked at. More of a local rumour. Was involved with local bikie gangs, apparently.’
All the colour had drained from Nathalie’s face. She opened her mouth as though to say something and then closed it, shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. Emmie took her elbow. She couldn’t help herself. There was something about Nathalie that made you want to look after her. She was like a frail, exotic bird. ‘You look like you need something to eat.’
Caleb came into the hall and Emmie felt Nathalie stiffen beside her.
‘Oh, hi,’ he said, running a hand through his hair, looking awkward. ‘I just wanted to check whether the kids would prefer the bacon or salmon quiche.’
‘Caleb, what would we do without you? So thoughtful. Seraphine will eat anything,’ Emmie said.
‘Thanks, my girls will want the bacon. But I’ll serve them. You’ve done enough. Thank you,’ Nathalie said, rushing into the dining room at a speed that surprised Emmie. Something was definitely going on between the two of them. The tension was clear.
Macie and Nathalie began serving food onto the kids’ plates. It felt so wrong that they were here enjoying another meal when Pen was God knows where. She looked over at Will. Nathalie had served him first. Putting food onto his plate and filling his plastic cup with water. How long was this going to go on? At some point they all needed to go home. Will needed to go home . . . but to where? Cate could stay with her father but he wasn’t Will’s father. And it was pointless to try to contact Pen’s mother, Will’s grandmother. Emmie knew that she was in a nursing home suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s. Pen had mentioned going to visit her several times and how sad it had made her.
Emmie’s heart ached for this little boy. After yet another futile day of searching she had to face the painful truth. Maybe Pen wasn’t coming back. The police couldn’t keep looking forever. Her heart felt like it was being stretched across her chest and the black pit she’d been staring into for days yawned, became a cavern. A valley. Taking Will in for a while if the worst came about, made sense. He and Seraphine were friends. There was nowhere else for him to go right now. How would Dave react? He’d be fine. Of course he would. He was a good man. She realised that she missed him. He’d offered to come out to help in the search, to comfort her, but Emmie kept telling him she was okay. That they’d be home soon. Not to worry. Pen would be found. She’d been deluding herself. Homesickness washed through her. The librarian’s words came to her as she placed a slice of quiche on Seraphine’s plate and kissed her daughter’s head. Gives me the spooks. Locals wouldn’t be going there. She thought of that ghostly face in the window at the old mines. Up until now she’d thought it all just a fanciful tale, a story told to scare and fascinate in equal measure, but now she didn’t know.
The Valley of Lost Stories Page 28
